


What Once Was Lost (Rewrite)

by Chelseadaggz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Outlaw Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelseadaggz/pseuds/Chelseadaggz
Summary: A re-write of a fic I started a long time ago.Regina wakes one morning to find a complete stranger in her bed. What will she make of things when she's told that not only is she in love with this strange man but, more importantly, she's married to him. Can she push past the instinct to run and fall back in love with her soulmate?





	What Once Was Lost (Rewrite)

_Regina Mills found herself aware of two things the moment she woke up._

 

_The first was that she couldn’t remember coming to bed the night before nor could she remember drinking herself blackout drunk but the second and most important thing was that she had absolutely no idea who the arm draped over her waist belonged to._

 

_Absolutely no idea at all._

 

* * *

 

“Shall I make us all a drink?”

 

“The very fact that you are standing in my living room is trying my patience, Charming,” she snarled, feeling absolutely murderous at the sight of the two idiots, their spawn _and_ the damn pirate making themselves so comfortable in her home. “I believe I've been pushed far enough already, don't you?”

 

She caught the hurt that flashed through his eyes and the disappointment that coloured his wife’s - but then again, when was the darling snowflake _not_ disappointed with her these days? - but chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the blonde Savior when she asked, “What exactly _do_ you remember, Regina?”

 

Her ire only burned hotter. “A little informal don't you think, Miss Swan?” Emerald eyes merely rolled, expectedly, before she was levelled with a look of frustration that had her heaving a heavy sigh before replying, “It’s not as easy as pinpointing one final memory,” it was a confession, in all honesty, she was admitting vulnerability on her part for she had absolutely no idea what was happening to her, what _had_ happened to her. She was unnerved, frightened even.

 

“Okay…” Emma frowned, there was no judgement there though - her willingness to help was perplexing considering their thoughts on one another - “What’s the last... _big_ thing that you remember?”

 

She shifted on her feet with arms folded protectively over her chest. In truth, and with what she was about to divulge, she felt a little ganged up on with all three of the Charmings staring her down. She felt no hostility there though, just a calm patience that she wasn’t used to from them. It was strange and disconcerting, had her shifting from one foot to the other. “Arguing outside the diner, with you,” she nodded towards Emma, “because I want to see more of my son even if he has chosen to live with you and your...” her lip curled in distaste as her eyes moved over the Charmings once more before she looked back to Emma and managed, “family.”

 

Henry was her son, she was his mother by law. Anger still bubbled in her stomach, buzzed through her veins.

 

“But that was…” the blonde’s head shook, curls falling about her shoulders as she frowned up at Regina, “ _God,_ that was... _years_ ago.” She turned to look at her mother concernedly and, at Snow’s look of confusion, explained, “The night we got back from the Enchanted Forest, before Killian came to town-”

 

“With Cora-”

 

“My mother is here?” Regina frowned, looking between the two. A familiar anxiety rippled in her stomach at the thought of her mother here, roaming free in Storybrooke...but, if Emma was to be believed and Regina had somehow lost a few _years_ of her memory - Merlin only knows how - anything could have happened between herself and her mother.

 

Both Emma and Snow’s expressions changed almost instantly as their heads twisted and their eyes found hers once more.

 

Her eyes narrowed, her gaze moving between the two of them confusedly. “Where is she?” and when Emma only swallowed whilst Snow’s skin whitened further, she asked, “What happened?”

 

“It wasn't intentional…” Snow’s voice trembled as those annoyingly round doe eyes glistened with tears that had nausea replacing Regina’s anxiety, “I tried to stop-”

 

“What. Happened.” It wasn't a question this time but a demand.

 

“She was unstoppable, Regina,” David intervened, drawing the heat of her gaze to him, “she wanted the Dark One’s dagger, she was going to-”

 

She threw her hands up, a blast of magic forcing their mouths shut as she took a moment to breathe through the rage building within her. She knew what they were getting at, what they were quite clearly trying to hide but she needed confirmation before she was even able to decipher how she felt about the possibility of it. “I want one of you,” she spoke as calmly and as steadily as she was able, her eyes falling upon all three of them, “to tell me exactly what happened.”

 

* * *

 

Regina stood beneath her apple tree, eyes lifted to the thick, strong branches that supported her still flourishing fruit. It looked healthier than it ever had been.

 

She remembered standing beneath these very same branches so long ago, wishing to be the birds that preyed upon the insects within so that she might fly away from the very person she now ached to see, if only for one last time.

 

She'd been here. Cora had been here, in Storybrooke.

 

They'd been something of a team, Regina and her mother, Emma had explained. Regina had ‘fallen off the wagon’, in a sense, and succumbed to the temptation of her mother’s love. A love that, in her very last moments, had been real apparently. How that must have felt. Her mother, loving her finally. How different things could have been...

 

But, of course, Snow White had ruined it all.

 

Her chin quivered as she tightened her arms across her chest, holding herself as she fought to keep from crying, closing her eyes against another onslaught of tears. She wouldn't cry again, not with a roomful of people still encroaching upon her space. Not when she had absolutely no idea who they were to her anymore.

 

Who were they to tell her that they'd let go of old grudges and had formed something of a strong friendship these last few years? How was she to know that this hadn't been their plan from the very beginning? That they hadn't set out to intentionally do this to her?

 

She couldn't trust anyone.

 

“Mom?”

 

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of a voice almost familiar to her save for the deeper octave. So used to not seeing her son, the thought of him had been pushed to the back of her mind in order to sort through the mess that things had become. He was here now though.

 

“Mom, it's me...Henry.”

 

Regina turned, her tears finally falling at the sight of him as she gasped and lifted a hand to her mouth. He was so tall.

 

“I'm your so-”

 

“I know who you are, sweetheart,” she laughed wetly as she walked closer to him, her smile widening with his when he laughed at himself. “I knew you were going to be handsome but, oh my god,” she lifted a palm to his cheek the moment she was close enough, a little startled at the feel of growing stubble and the sheer size of him, “ _look_ at you, my boy.”

 

“You say that all the time,” his eyes rolled though he didn't shy away from her touch as he used to.

 

“I do?”

 

He nodded, “ _All_ the time.”

 

She laughed, tears falling faster before she pulled him into her arms and practically sobbed into his shoulder at the feel of him hugging her back. It was true, she really had lost her memory - or some of it at least - going by the sheer size of her little boy.

 

He gave her a moment, a long moment, before he spoke again. “Mom?”

 

“Yes, sweetheart?” she didn't loosen her hold on him, didn’t think she ever would now that she had him back in her arms.

 

He hesitated for a moment, holding on just as tightly as she did before he replied, “That man in there, Robin,” he waited until she nodded tentatively against his shoulder, mind flashing back to this morning, to them both screaming in one another’s faces as they stood at either end of her bed with sheets wrapped haphazardly around their semi-naked bodies. “I know you don't remember right now but...you love him,” he assured her gently, “like _really_ love him.”

 

“I barely know him, Henry.”

 

“You will again though, Mom,” he seemed to promise, “I know you will.”

 

* * *

 

She'd known that her hair was longer, she'd been able to feel it sliding about her neck, her shoulders, her upper back all morning but, having woken in the way that she had, checking her appearance had been the very least of her worries. She was still in her pyjamas for crying out loud but now, as she stood staring at a reflection so very different from the one she'd known for so long, she found herself in a state of shock.

 

Her whole face seemed different. She looked younger than she had in years. The length of her hair - resting just above her breasts now - was certainly a big part of that but there was something about her eyes, a brightness that she hadn't seen for so long, that had her stepping closer to the mirror.

 

She hadn't looked this way since...well, since her days with Daniel. Days before heartbreak and magic. Before the burden of misplaced responsibility had been placed upon her. Before Kings and little princesses. Before she had anything other to worry about than her Rocinante and the discovery of what Daniel had truly meant to her.

 

Now though, now there was a man on her couch that she'd never laid eyes upon until this morning when he'd practically fallen from her bed with eyes as wide and unfamiliar to her as her own apparently were to his despite the fact that they were ‘in love’ according to her son. Was that the reason for the change in her? Was he the reason for the lightness she could not only see but, besides the confusion and fear that came with losing her memories, that she could almost feel as well?

 

“Are you ready, Mom?”

 

Regina turned her head to find Henry smiling encouragingly at her from the doorway. She'd promised him that she'd give this man a chance and, despite every single atom of her body screaming for her to run and to trust no one but herself, she knew she had to. If not for her then for Henry. She'd missed too much already with him.

 

Swallowing both her pride and her growing nerves, she nodded and allowed herself to follow him down the hallway, towards the living room in which the others still remained.

 

She paused in the doorway though, giving Henry a small smile when he looked at her confusedly before she closed her eyes and called forth her magic.

 

In place of her pyjama shirt came the soft silk of a burgundy blouse, her pants replaced by black slacks and feet covered by her favourite black stilettos.

 

Her hair curled about her shoulders in soft yet perfectly styled waves, lashes thickened with mascara and lips painted to match her shirt. Despite her hammering heart, it calmed her somewhat, having her familiar armour around her.

 

Henry smiled encouragingly, looking over her chosen ensemble with a soft laugh and a shake of his head before leading her forwards with her hand in his own large one.

 

Rage flickered in her stomach once more at the sound of Snow White’s voice but she took a deep breath and steadied her emotions. She'd also promised not to roast Henry’s Grandmother where she sat despite the overwhelming urge to, especially having heard what had happened to her mother.

 

“We'd just taken shelter in the Dark One’s castle and word of your arrival had spread to us,” the man, Robin, was explaining. “We knew of the danger in that part of the kingdom and so, I made the decision for us to stay put. No good battling the horde of ogres and dark forces with a little one in tow.”

 

“You have a son?”

 

His head turned, eyes falling upon her as she made her presence known. “I do,” he responded tentatively, clearly unsure of how to interact with her. They'd barely exchanged more than a few words since this morning despite the fact that she'd been raging and yelling in this very room only an hour before. “And I'm quite eager to find him.”

 

“He's with Uncle John.”

 

They turned to look at Henry, stood just beside Regina. “Uncle John?” she asked, her frown deep. “Who is this John?”

 

“If I'm thinking rightly,” Robin responded with his own frown, “I believe he means Little John, my right hand man.”

 

“And Roland’s and my uncle.” Henry shrugged matter-of-factly. “He was the best man at your wedding.”

 

Regina's stomach dropped. _Wedding!?_ She was _married_ to this man? Her eyes, wide as they were, dropped from Henry’s to the hands she had folded across her chest and, sure enough, there, glittering on her finger, was both an engagement ring and the silver band of a wedding ring sitting prettily on the ring finger of her left hand.

 

Looking up, she found Robin’s expression to be just as stricken as her own as he stared down at his own wedding band. He looked as nauseous as she felt.

 

She swallowed against the rising bile in her throat, struggling to keep her breathing normal as the reality of their situation began closing in on her like the very walls surrounding them.

 

Trapped again in another marriage to a man she didn’t love.

 

Saliva flooded her mouth as she pressed a palm against her lips. She was going to be sick.

 

Their words were muffled as blood thundered in her ears, her free hand pressing against every flat surface possible on her way to the downstairs bathroom in a panicked attempt at keeping herself upright. Vomiting with a house full of guests nearby was bad enough but collapsing into a puddle of it was something else entirely.

 

The tiles were cold on her knees when she finally made it, her shins smacking violently against the hard floor but she felt the cold burst of air that meant she'd managed to swing the door closed behind her. Her relief was only short lived, however, as she grabbed as much of her hair as she could in one hand and used the other to balance herself over the toilet basin as she emptied the limited contents of her stomach into it.

 

“You okay in there?” It was Emma.

 

“I'm fi-” she wretched again, her stomach contracting painfully with barely anything left to bring up except bile. The taste of that alone was enough to knock her sick all over again. “I'm fine.”

 

She breathed deeply, rocking gently on her knees as she swallowed again and again and again. It felt as though the worst of it was over but she gave herself a minute before pulling up onto shaky legs and gripping the sink basin with one hand whilst she scooped mouthful after mouthful of water in her palm, swilling her mouth and drinking down when the disgusting taste had all but gone.

 

“Mom?”

 

She couldn't stop the tears nor could she keep from sinking down onto the floor with her back to the side of the bathtub. Her arms wrapped around her knees as she laid her head atop them and allowed the emotion to consume her. She doubted she was quiet about it either.

 

“Can I please come in, Mom?”

 

She didn't answer, only continued to sob into her knees and, after a moment, it seemed that Henry had taken her lack of answer for permission for he was soon sitting by her side with an arm wrapped around her shoulders, whispering comforting words to her.

 

“I don't u-understand what's happening,” she confessed, lifting her head only to scrape fingers through her hair and hold her head in place with elbows resting on her knees. “Why can't I remember anything?”

 

“I don't know,” he sighed. His voice was deep - not yet the low timber of a grown man’s voice but certainly developing in such a way - and it only cut her deeper for she couldn't even remember the most important years of his life. “But we’ll get your memories back, Mom.”

 

“What if we don't?”

 

“You have to have hope,” he answered simply, innocently.

 

She shook her head, lifting her face so that she could look at him as she sighed tiredly, “You know that's something I've never been able to do, Henry.”

 

“Not in the days that you remember, maybe,” he explained gently, “but when Robin came along, even though you pretended to hate him in the Enchanted Forest, he made sure that you didn't lose the hope of getting back here to me and I think, when you finally did get back here and he stuck by your side, that's when you actually started believing again.”

 

She frowned, “When I got back here to you?” she shook her head, “what does that mean? And I have certainly never met the man sitting on my sofa before this morning.”

 

He chuckled softly, leaning against her and giving her a playful little nudge before he assured her, “We’ve got a lot to talk about, Mom.”

 

* * *

 

The Charmings had, thankfully, gone.

 

She'd heard Henry promising to call them if anything untoward happened - as if it would - before they’d begun expressing their sadness at what had apparently transpired and promising to call around tomorrow. Wonderful.

 

They were currently waiting for Robin’s son, Roland, to be returned home. Just the two of them sitting rather awkwardly in her living room whilst Henry fixed them all something to eat.

 

She fixed her eyes on the candle in the middle of the coffee table and worked at swallowing down the nausea still rolling in her gut.

 

“I would like to apologise for my reaction upon waking, this morning.”

 

Regina looked up, surprised to find him looking at her. “I'm sorry?”

 

“Shouting at you the way that I did,” he explained ashamedly, shaking his head as he continued, “accusing you of bewitching me when you were just as confused as I was, it wasn't fair.”

 

“It was to be expected though,” she gave him, “waking up beside the Evil Queen with no recollection of how you got there,” she laughed humorlessly, “I can't say that I blame you.” She blinked after a moment, rather surprised with the ease at which she’d answered him. Absolutely no venom in her words despite his unfamiliarity to her.

 

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the opening of the door and the sound of sneakers hitting the marble floor of her foyer.

 

“Don't run!” called a voice Regina didn't recognise but that Robin apparently seemed to with the way he stood from the sofa and frowned at the doorway.

 

He gasped the moment a young boy with wild curls and dark eyes appeared before them and cried, “Papa!”

 

“Roland,” he breathed, falling to his knees and catching his son in his embrace, eyes closed as he lifted a hand to the back of his head.

 

A feeling of deep understanding washed over Regina as she watched a lone tear roll down Robin’s cheek but she found herself unable to think of it much more before Roland was soon pulling himself from his father’s grip and turning to wrap his arms around her waist as he rested his head on her chest. Her wide eyes found Robin’s and she could only blink confusedly before placing her palms on his son’s back - it was almost instinctual, felt almost familiar.

 

The hug didn't last long, not really, before Roland was pulling back and looking up at her with a frown. “Don't you remember me?”

 

His voice, so small, so filled with hurt, tugged at her heart as she stared down at him, unsure of what to say to him because no, she didn't remember him.

 

“We’re figuring it out, bud,” Henry answered for her, smiling comfortingly down at Roland from his place in the doorway before opening his arms for his own hug and grinning when the young boy practically jumped at him with a laugh. “You have a good time?”

 

“The best!”

 

“Good,” he looked up at the two still staring rather dumbfoundedly at the pair of them before looking back down to Roland and asking, “how's about we go upstairs and unpack your things, yeah?”

 

He nodded, taking Henry’s hand and following him out of the room, chatting animatedly about his weekend spent with Uncle John who stood staring at them both from the doorway.

 

“So it's true…” he wasn't looking at Robin, at his alleged friend, but instead his focus was on her - she found no fear in his eyes despite the scowl sharpening her features at having a complete stranger in her home - “you really have lost your memories.”

 

“I believe the child has been returned safely,” she sneered, arms folded across her chest as she raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “you may go now.”

 

He looked to Robin then and she found herself furious at the amusement on his face as he replied, “I can't wait to see you wear this one down again, my friend.” He left them both with a wide grin as he turned and bounded his way back towards the front door, whistling as he went.

 

“This is all…” she sighed, shaking her head as she scraped a hand through her hair, “it’s-”

 

“Overwhelming?” Robin supplied knowingly. His smile was small but certainly warming when she nodded and she found herself mirroring the expression despite the mistrust swirling in her gut. It wasn't towards him though for he was in the same boat as she and, she found as she lingered in the living room with him for a little longer, she felt safe with him…

 

* * *

 

Her fingers stroked along the walls of the upstairs corridor, lingering beneath each framed photograph she stopped to look at. Never had her walls been adorned with anything other than her favoured artworks but now they were coloured with captured moments and framed works clearly by the hand of Robin’s son.

 

She felt more and more convinced with every one that this was some kind of cruel trick for every photograph showed the very thing she’d been wishing for all of her adult life.

 

A real family.

 

She lay on her back on the grass with the two boys laying on top of her, all grinning wildly up at the camera that seemed to be pointing down at them, caught mid-laugh. Another had her asleep with her head on Robin’s chest, his hand on her shoulders playing with the ends of her hair. She’d never seen herself look so calm, so peaceful.

 

It was disconcerting to say the least, looking at herself like that with another. Never has she so easily given her trust and affections since Daniel but this man had apparently demolished the walls around her heart and claimed it as his own.

 

The next picture, however, had her heart in her throat completely.

 

It appeared she and Robin were dancing, their surroundings blurred and out of focus to ensure they were the centre of frame. His back was to the camera, his head bent down with his face pressed to her neck whilst she had her arms around his waist and her eyes on the camera. The amount of calm happiness reflected at her had her breath hard to find. Pure love and devotion emanated from them both.

 

“Snow took that one,” Henry announced his presence quietly but enough to startle her out of her thoughts and to acknowledge the tear rolling down her cheek. “She gave it to you as a wedding present a couple of days later. It’s your favourite picture of the two of you.”

 

“This makes no sense,” she shook her head, eyes falling back upon the photograph, her fingers brushing along the bottom edge of the frame. “How can I not remember something like this? Something this big?” She was talking more to herself now just out loud, words spewing forth without much thought. “I never wanted to love again, I didn’t think I could after Daniel so how can I give everything to a man I don’t even know?”

 

“He adores you, Mom. Even if you can’t remember, even if you don’t feel it yourself you adore him too. He forced his way into your heart, told you to be brave, to let him show you that he was worth it and, after a little while, you did.”

 

Her head continued to shake as she moved further along the wall, taking in the images of them all together; of Robin larking about with the boys, of her and Snow sitting with mugs between their palms, heads resting together and smiling back at the camera, of days at the beach with all of them there. And then, her blood ran cold at the last picture she came to.

 

“Oh, yeah…” Henry breathed out a hesitant laugh as her eyes moved over the image, honing in on one particular detail. “He’s-“

 

“My soulmate,” Regina breathed, fingers brushing over the glass covering the image.

 

They were waving at the camera, Robin, Henry and Roland, seemingly on some kind of camping trip with a tent standing proudly behind them and there, clear as day on his wrist, was the lion crest.

 

“Henry, I-“

 

“Don’t run again, Mom.”

 

She blinked, tears falling freely down her cheeks now as she turned to look at him again, head shaking.

 

“You ran from him the first time and he followed you anyway, made sure you didn’t go too far but he doesn’t know you this time. He doesn’t know what he is to you, what you mean to each other yet. Don’t throw something wonderful away because you’re scared.”

 

“You’re brave, Mom. Brave and happy and in love. Just give yourself a little time to get back to that. Please.”

 

She could only blink in response, trying with all of her might to listen to her son - and her heart apparently with the way it was practically beating out her chest, willing her to stay - as her feet itched to take her as far away from here as they could.

 

Henry smiled sadly at her, aware of her internal fight, before he stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You won’t regret it, Mom. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

He’d taken himself out to the backyard when Regina had disappeared upstairs, watching as Roland ran about the large space, bundles of energy despite the apparent trip he’d taken with John and his men.

 

He’d watched for the first while, sitting on the step of her wrap around shelter – he’d never seen a house like it, almost as grand as the manors he’d loot that had belonged to greedy royals not quite grand enough for the palace but just as arrogant, but homely inside, comfortable even – trying to wrap his mind around the sheer height of his boy.

 

If everyone was to be believed, he’d lost around 4 years of his memory placing Roland at the age of 8 and it was devastating having lost that much time with his boy. Still, he was just as amusedly clever, his speech no longer broken but still with the innocence of his age. He longed to know just what had happened since their apparent arrival in this strange town.

 

Then there was her.

 

He’d awoken this morning to the grip of her magic around his throat, choking his breath from him and disorienting him even further. Everything about the room had been foreign and the sight of her clutching a white sheet to her bare body with her free hand had only confused him further until he’d managed to discover that he too was without a stitch of clothing and covered only by the remaining sheet.

 

She’d demanded to know who he was and how the hell he’d managed to get into her house, into her bed and he’d had no answers for her. He’d been on the verge of passing out when she’d finally let go and, once he’d manage to fill his lungs again and speak without spluttering, he’d accused her of bewitching him, of luring him into her bed. Her eyes had flashed with fury and a hurt that twisted in his gut now every time he thought of it.

 

If he’d have been lucid, if it hadn’t been such a shock to him – if it hadn’t been _her_ – he would’ve handled things differently. He knew he would but the fact was, Evil anymore or not, her reputation far preceded her.

 

Then there had been their exchange in her living room, once the Royals – looking far different than he’d ever known them to – had left and they’d been sitting quietly together waiting for his son. She’d been decidedly calmer, soft even. Nothing like the woman she was rumoured to be. As beautiful as the tales he’d heard and, as that morning had proved, just as powerful. But so very different to what he’d expected.

 

Henry was a factor in that, of that he was almost certain. His presence soothed the Queen – or Regina as she’d asked him to call her, a shadow in her eyes that he took as the shame of her reign – allowed her to think a little clearer. She trusted him with her life, that was clear to see. And to know she was a mother, well, that certainly changed things.

 

The silver band sat heavily on his left hand and his eyes dropped from Roland – he was swinging back and forth on a contraption quite like the rope Robin used to tie to a thick branch in their camp for Roland to play on but this was a free-standing structure made of metal and far sturdier – to the wedding ring.

 

They were married.

 

Married and with absolutely no memory of one another. He didn’t understand it. How could he forget loving someone? How could those feelings just disappear supposedly overnight? It wasn’t possible, surely. Still, the evidence was right in front of him.

 

_“I can’t wait to see you wear this one down again, my friend.”_

John had all but confirmed it himself, his best friend in any world and any realm. His most trusted advisor, his steadfast supporter. He wouldn’t stand by whilst Robin was being manipulated surely. His head hurt with the amount of unanswered questions buzzing round it.

 

The main being, what the hell was he supposed to do now?

 

Were they supposed to go along with this? To remain living together despite feeling like complete strangers? What was the damn solution to all of this?

 

At this moment in time, all he wanted to do was run but, as he fully contemplated that idea, thought about leaving with his son and taking himself out of this awful mess, something in his chest ached. A sorrowful throb that gave him pause.

 

His heart was telling him to stay…


End file.
